


Totally Transparent

by gigi_originally



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, I blame Robbie Kay, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 10:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1547012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigi_originally/pseuds/gigi_originally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taste like a keg party, back on the sauce / I like you a lot, I like you a lot</p><p>OR</p><p>"You didn’t mind me yesterday."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Totally Transparent

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Tami and Yazzy and [this picture](http://calculated2stagger.tumblr.com/post/84321703964/believeinyourstrengths-i-think-if-he-was-a) and Robbie Kay and whoever’s goddamned Tiki torch that is.
> 
> Also, soundtrack by Lana Del Ray, especially [this song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wdQ_X2j9bHg)

TEXT FROM  **FELIX**   2:07 p.m.   
dude ur staring 

Peter blinks behind his sunglasses, glad that the oversized shield hides some of his expression. He was not staring. There is nothing to stare at in Tink’s sprawling backyard that he hasn’t seen before. Nothing to steal and hold his attention. He most definitely was not appreciating the way the sunlight glints off the gold of Wendy Darling’s hair. She does not positively shine and he is completely immune to the way the soft cotton of her sundress flutters around her thighs, thank you very much. 

TEXT FROM  **PETER**  2:07 p.m.   
am not 

Felix all but snorts when he checks his phone. His best friend is utterly oblivious to the fact that those glasses are about 75% transparent from the angle he’s at. Peter had, of course, taken up residence on a chair just outside of the shade of the lanai. “The Pan” was far too cool to do anything as mundane as socializing with the other guests. But “cool” apparently didn’t stop said Pan from following Wendy Darling all over the yard with his eyes wide and his mouth half-open 

TEXT FROM  **FELIX**  2:08 p.m.   
would help if ur mouth was closed 

Peter tears his eyes away from a spot in the vague distance (that may or may not have been in the vicinity of Wendy’s pink lips) to read his text and he doesn’t try to hide his scowl at Felix’s jab. The best way to deal with idiots like his beanpole of a best friend when he gets like this is to either counter with a barb about Felix’s hopeless crush on the very taken Tink or to ignore him. Given the way that Tink is giggling in Killjoy’s arms in front of the grill, Peter opts for the kinder approach. He shoves his phone back in his pocket, leans back in his chair and turns his head just the littlest bit when it happens.  

Wendy catches his eye and he knows by the way she blinks that she can’t tell that he’s looking at her. Still, his whole body goes rigid as her smile softens. She eyes him up and down appreciatively and on the inside he preens. He knows he looks good. The henley and sunglasses are both brand new (he could do better with the shades, to be honest, but his face is irritatingly fine-boned in comparison to standard men’s sizes). Wendy takes her time and just when Peter thinks he’ll have to make some sort of move to prove he’s alive, she  _licks her lips_.  

Fuck his life.  _That mouth._   

God, yesterday was so fucking hot — in both senses of the word. He hadn’t meant for it to happen but he and Wendy had run into each other outside the local ice cream place. He’d been leaning against the hood of his car drinking a milkshake and people watching for lack of anything else to do when she’d gone strolling past in cut-off shorts that he’d been pretty sure George Darling did not pre-approve. He’d stuck around (to bother her, he told himself, not anything else) and caught her leaving with her soft-serve.  

Somehow — he still can’t remember what he’d said to convince her — she’d gotten into the car with him and they’d wound up sitting by the lake in the backseat of his car with the AC on full blast because it was just too hot to even be outside. Her cone had leaked all down her fingers and, contrary to her polite little lady persona, she’d proceeded to lick at her fingers with relish. She’d managed before he reached over, grabbed her hand and taken the length of her middle finger into his mouth.   

It hadn’t stayed cool inside the car for much longer. Wendy had crawled into his lap, legs on either side of his, and kissed the breath from his lungs. His fingers were greedy with her skin, she’d left so much of it exposed and he was allowed, for the first time in his life, to  _touch_. He’d secretly wanted to touch her since he’d started wanting to touch girls. Not that he would ever admit to it.  

He didn’t  _like_ Wendy Darling. She wasn’t his type  _at all_.  

Except when she was. Like when she was straddling him with her shirt off; letting him push his fingers under her pretty lace bra and grinding down hard against the stiffness in his pants. She was exquisite then and you’d have to be a fool not to want her. Peter kissed her roughly when her sticky fingers clenched in his hair but then she’d pulled his head back and worked her lips and tongue along the underside of his jaw as he fumbled with the button on her jeans. She bit down when he’d slipped his fingers inside her.  

Peter raises his hand to gently trace the spot on his jawline where her teeth marks are still slightly visible. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice he was sporting a new bruise compliments of their resident good girl’s sharp little teeth. He doesn’t bother to hide the bit of awe that slips onto his expression as he watches her laugh at Rufio’s dancing beside the pool. No one can see behind his sunglasses anyway. At least, that’s what he thinks until his phone vibrates again.  

TEXT FROM  **FELIX**  2:13 p.m.   
jfc get ur hand off ur hickey n just go talk to her pancake  

Peter drops his hand immediately.  _Shit._   

 _You know what_ , he thinks,  _fuck this_. He isn’t scared of Wendy Darling. He isn’t scared of being rejected by Wendy Darling. Hell, they’d all but fucked in the back of his car. She’d given him a blowjob like he was her second ice cream cone and he could still taste her on his fingers if he imagined hard enough. Ok, it didn’t take any effort to remember her flavor but he wasn’t going to admit to being  _that_ gone for her. She isn’t his type. Usually.  

Behind him, there’s a cooler full of ice and diet coke. Why diet coke? He doesn’t bother to ask. He grabs two cans and turns to find Wendy. She isn’t far, just by a side-door to the house away from everyone else, lazily fanning herself with a paper plate with a wide grin on her face. A single bead of sweat trickles down her neck and he wants to chase the trail with the tip of his tongue.  

Fuck. Right. Not his type.  

(Who is he even trying to convince?) 

He saunters leisurely over to her, staying close to the shadows and trying not to draw attention to himself. Felix has probably spotted him but — oh no, Tink has distracted the taller boy finally. Killjoy is busy flirting with Ariel behind her back. Huh.  _Not cool._  

Wendy blinks when he taps her shoulder and something in her expression shifts from pure happiness. Peter doesn’t like that; doesn’t want to be the cause of her smile’s disappearance. Wordlessly, he holds out a dripping can of diet coke to her.   

"Thanks," she says softly, all demure and ladylike and nothing like the sexy girl from yesterday but every bit as alluring.  

Jesus, he’s got it bad.  

"So, how about them tiki torches?" he ventures with a sly smirk.  

As expected, she almost buckles with the force of her laughter. By the time she catches her breath, her cheeks are flushed and she’s wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. He didn’t think it was that funny. Still, she’s gorgeous when she laughs.   

When she raises her eyes to his again, the nervous tension returns. She takes a drink of her diet coke to and turns back to the sight of their “friends” being idiots in the sun. Most of them are going to be burnt to a crisp come morning. They stand there in the silence until he hears her softly singing along to Lana’s lyrics. He eyes her out of the corner of his shades. Holy shit, is she allowed to do that? Sway like that and sing,  _you can be boss, daddy/ you can be the boss_?  

"Stop it," he hisses and she freezes.   

Shit, he didn’t mean to say it like that. He can already see her hackles rising.  

"Why?" she demands quietly, her tone hard. Then, boldly but with her face still turned away from him, she adds, "You didn’t mind me yesterday."  

"Exactly," he murmurs, trailing a finger down the exposed bit of her spine above her dress. "You want a repeat in front of everyone?"  

He can feel her muscles tense then loosen under his touch. She lifts her drink to her lips again and her mumble almost gets lost behind it: “Maybe not in front of everyone.”  

They make good use of Tink’s guest bedroom.  

TEXT FROM  **FELIX**  4:27 p.m.   
ffs peter at the party? 

TEXT FROM  **PETER**  4:28 p.m.   
u mad bro? 


End file.
